The Bat and A Brat
by Dia Regan
Summary: Oh, it wouldn't take a genius to find out what's happened: some idiot had let his potion explode... But something has changed, a very significant something... What is the change? Snarry; AU  mild
1. Chapter 1

**The ****Bat**** and**** A**** Brat**

**A****/****N****:**

_Oh__, __it__ wouldn__'__t__ take __a __genius __to __find __out __what__'__s __happened__: __some __idiot __had__ let__ his __potion __explode__. _But something has changed, a very significant something... What is the change?

Why AU? - There's probably gonna be some OOCness, and many trivial changes (will be explained as I go...). Also, it's a slash - not too sure how much graphic I'll get, though - and thus be warned: "Don't like it, don't read it."

The main plot is pretty much planned, though I'm open to any suggestions for sub-plots (yea, your wish is my command... to a certain degree :D )

**genres**: slash, h/c, AU, drama, **possible** smut...

**warnings****1**: slash, self-harm, child abuse, death, language

**side****-****notes**: no Horcruxes; Raven!Hermione; greyish!Harry; evil!Dumbledore... (probably some more, but that you'll just have to find out...)

**Disclaimer****:**

All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of J. K. Rowling and though I do not own any of it, I'm having an awesome time 'playing around' with them.

~aq

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

The potion classes with Snape were as excruciating as ever... well, _more __than __ever_, Harry sighed inwardly. He's never really excelled at this particular subject, not that he was at fault... From the very beginning - first Potions in his first year - this subject was destined to be his utter failure, after all, how could he grow interested in the 'subtle science of potion-making' when his professor has hated him even since before he was born and didn't have any qualms at showing his 'affection'. Quite the opposite, actually, Harry was expected to fail, and his classmates have never forgotten to help him to this unwelcome achievement by throwing some potion ingredients into his cauldron at random.

He really hated it, yet he was never able to stop being fascinated by his professor. Dungeon bat, a very accurate description indeed. Never leaving his 'dungeony kingdom' unless absolutely necessary, always wearing black; with black hair and eyes that were the very epitome of that colour. Scary... and fascinating nonetheless...

Even now - nearly five years later since his first encounter with the man - he never got bored looking at him. Until yesterday. Yes, a memorable day: the day he realized he was doomed, the day he has found the true reason behind this 'fascination'... and suddenly just looking at the man didn't seem enough...

Harry leaned heavily against his desk as he yet again remembered the man's eyes. He didn't need to look at him, better, he didn't **dare** to look at him anymore. He wasn't sure he could mask his feelings for the man, now that he finally realized what they were.

Blackness of a moonless night concentrated in those two bottomless abysses of his eyes. One could get lost in those, and Harry certainly has. Too late did he realize that, and there was no longer an escape for him... Those feelings; yes, feelings for a man, his elder and professor no less, already passed the point of no return. And there was another problem; the man in question hated and despised him... Yet another 'keepsake' of his father.

His chest constricted and his heart clenched so tightly it threatened to stop altogether. Yet stop beating it did not, just the opposite: it sped up and rushed blood to his cheeks. His throat seemed too tight for the necessary oxygen to pass through. _'__Why__ me__?' _Suddenly breathing seemed so hard of a chore he would gladly stop it, just so the unpleasant choking feeling disappeared.

And then the man, the one he loved and the same who wanted nothing more than to drown him in his yet another failure of a potion, stopped right behind his back. Harry knew; he didn't have to look back to know his desire's 'most wanted' stood there, he could feel him... he could smell him: the scent of herbs and plants always seemed to surround the Potion Master.

_Unbearable__._

For the first time in his schooling years was Harry glad - truly and honestly glad - the school was almost over. Just one more week to go. Just one more Potions with Snape. Then finally his fifth year would be over and he would...

Suddenly the easing feeling disappeared to be replaced by another stronger one.

Just one more week of school and then he would be spending two months at...

Dursleys'...

His throat constricted again... and for a different reason this time. This feeling was unmistakable, the feeling he knew all too well. Terror. Nothing more and nothing less, just pure terror. Two months in the hellhole of Privet Drive 4, his personal Hell.

Harry's hand started trembling and pupils of his eyes retracted in a dreadful anticipation.

His mind was suddenly flooded by a thick patchy darkness with images and whole memories, mercilessly replaying themselves in front-forth of his mind.

After a bit he felt the darkness retreating, taking the memories with it.

_Why__?_

"POTTER!" the voice cut through the remaining negativeness and he blinked, confused. He was back in the classroom.

"Sir?" he acknowledged as he guessed instantaneously who the voice belonged to.

"Potter," Snape growled his name as though he was ripping it apart. "Detention, today 5PM."

"Yes, Sir," Harry nodded, not really feeling anything at the moment, which evoked another raved growl.

* * *

><p>Potter wasn't paying attention, he noted. Again. He could feel a malicious sneer already forming on his face as he proceeded the aisle to the third row, where his permanent subject of malcontent currently resided.<p>

He stopped dead on his feet. Something wasn't right. Yes, the brat certainly didn't pay attention to the class, but as it seemed he wasn't aware even of the world around him right now.

He frowned as he stared into Potter's face. He could already spot drops of sweat forming on the brat's face, to be followed by another unexpected reaction of the youngster's body.

The crease marring his forehead deepened in his musings. Potter's body trembled uncontrollably and it seemed something was really wrong with him. When the brat's eyes widened in some sort of horror he decided he had had enough. And so he called to the boy, and was ignored. He tried to get across to him, but his attempts ended unsuccessfully, just drawing unnecessary attention from his other pupils.

"POTTER!" he bellowed, and the boy finally reacted, even though so slightly.

"Sir?" Potter asked, obviously confused, his voice sounding... defeated?

"Potter," he growled with passion. "Detention, today 5PM," he said and waited for an ever so amusing reaction... in vain.

Potter's anger wasn't present... nor any other emotion for that matter, which he found... disturbing, to say the least. And then there were the brat's eyes that seemed so dull as though belonging to a dead man.

"Yes, Sir," Potter said. And that was it.

'_Just __what __happened __to __him__?'_ he mused, forgetting that he was supposed to hate him. He sighed inwardly and shook his head. True enough. He hated the brat, and really needed someone to clean his inventory, so this detention would for a change prove useful... in other way than only humiliating said brat, of course.

A smirk crossed his face as another idea formed in his head. Yes, he found another amusing way how to mess with Potter.

And then there was a darkness...

He noticed some sounds that seemed to be played in the background of this blackness. And only a few seconds later he was fully taken by the unconsciousness.

* * *

><p>His senses - ever so slowly - begun working accordingly to his wishes. He lay on quite uncomfortable bed... but 'a bed' nonetheless. A sliver of relief crossed him at the thought he wasn't left lying on a cold dungeon floor after that accident... oh, it wouldn't take a genius to figure out what has happened: some idiot had let his potion explode...<p>

Potter.

Even the mere thought of the boy made his blood boil, bringing forth an image of his face: a deadly combination of nothing but pain to Severus, mercilessly reminding him of it whenever he looked at the brat. An almost perfect copy of his existence's bane in his school years: James Potter... well... **almost**, as his eyes shone bright avada kedavra green, so similar to the brat's mother's... The first and only love of his life... Lily Evans; who was meant to be his only to be taken by none else but the almighty Potter.

A low growl escaped his lips when three faces started dancing in his mind.

"Professor?" a gentle whisper caressed the darkness, making the images of pain disappear. He sighed in relief.

Having more important matters to deal with at the moment, he shifted his mind from past to present. Yes, there were many questions he wanted answered. What exactly happened to him after the accident; where is he now; are there any after-effects of the explosion? He moved his limbs abruptly, contently noting none is missing. And another question: _what __the __bloody __hell __was __that __whisper__?_

"Professor?"

'_There __it __comes __again__,' _Severus thought.

He opened his eyes only to find the room was almost equally dark as when his eyes were closed. _Night_, he deduced.

"Where am I?" he rasped, not recognizing his own voice.

"Hospital Wing," came the answer.

"I feel like hell," he groaned, wanting to return to the blissful oblivion as he found out that being awake meant suffering a blinding headache - not that he would notice being blind in this Merlin-forsaken dark night. His hand slowly travelled to his head, pressing against it as if it could push the headache away.

"Here," his companion whispered, pressing a cool glass into his other hand - _a__ vial_, he recognized the familiar shape.

"What is it?"

"Pain reliever."

Without further ado, he downed the potion in one go, feeling its effects almost immediately. He sighed, looking at the unfamiliar shadowy figure of his companion standing beside his bed._'__A__ new__ medi__-__wizard__?' _he thought. _'__I__ don__'__t__ recall__ Dumbledore__ mentioning__ any thing__ about__ such__ matter__.'_

"Where's Pomfrey?" he asked instead.

"Asleep, it's roughly 3AM," the man answered quietly.

"Great, so there **is** a way to escape from here," he sneered and tried to sit up, but it proved to be hard as a stinging pain assaulted the entirety of his body. He bit back a pained moan.

"What's wrong with my body?" he asked.

"The pain will stop in about ten minutes, it's just a bad reaction to a nutrition potion," the stranger said and helped him sit up.

"I don't have bad reactions to **any** potion Pomfrey might use... as long as it's correctly brewed..."

"You do, Sir... Well... Your **body** does."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he growled, and froze minutely; his voice sounded weird. "Who are you?" he asked, dismissing the problem of his voice for later.

"Are you sure you're ready for this, Sir?" the man asked hesitantly.

"What are you talking about? You're not making any sense."

"I guess..." the man trailed off.

Severus could hear a soft rattle from where he supposed his nightstand was as the stranger picked something up from there. Then his shadow came closer and put something... _Glasses__?_

"What are you-" he frowned when he noticed the world around him did indeed come to focus. "What the hell is going on? I don't use glasses!"

"Your body does, Sir," the man said in a strange voice, and took few steps back to stand in a place where the moon shone through a window, giving Severus a clear picture of what the man looked like.

And then Severus' famous self-control crumbled and his mind turned into an emotional turmoil, his face freezing in a state of a severe shock.

Not before several minutes have passed his brain started precessing what he saw: himself... his lookalike... his exact copy... Why was there somebody looking like him? He started coming up with scenarios as to 'why'and 'how', all either terrible or impossible, or both.

"Polyjuice Potion?"

"No such luck..."

"Long lost twin?" he went for the 'impossible' option.

"Still better than reality."

"Potter," he whispered.

"Afraid so, Sir."

"Fuck," Severus breathed out, falling back to lie.

* * *

><p>"Yeah, fuck," Harry sighed sitting down on his bed.<p>

He looked out of the window, what he'd been doing for the past three hours, leaving his professor to swallow another shock in silence.

"Why me?" Harry heard Snape whisper in despair.

"Any idea how to switch back?" Harry asked, though he didn't get his hopes high.

"Hah... How about letting a dementor Kiss you so I have a nice place to return to?"

"Don't like this one," Harry sighed. "Sir?"

"What, Potter?"

"Couldn't we alter the potion to force the switching?"

"Potter, had you paid any attention to-"

"I know, Sir. It binds the soul to the body. But when accident happened we weren't so far to the completion of it. In its previous stages it's rendered to be able to recognize the subjects that should belong together as separate entities, which basically means splitting the two, in a way... It should be possible to alter it so that this particular stage would be its final phase. Our souls originally don't belong to the bodies they currently reside in, if split, they should be able to return to their original places."

"Clever, Potter, clever," Snape growled looking at his original body sitting two metres from him thoughtfully. "But not possible. Not by the means of this potion, and not now anyway. Even in its earlier phase the potion shouldn't split a soul from a body, not literally. But thanks to you messing yet another potion up, it somehow has. The result of your failure is more appalling than ever, though. I'm very inclined to give you a detention for your whole final year."

"What did you mean by the 'not now' part, Sir?" Harry asked ignoring his remarks.

"This switch has been straining for the souls, Potter. A soul isn't indestructible; that's why a body exists - to protect it. If you forced one switch after another, you can seriously harm it, which isn't an option."

"How long will it take?"

"No idea. A day? A week? A month?"

"I'll go through a library," Harry sighed and attempted to stand up just to be immediately stopped by Snape.

"Where do you think you're going, Potter?"

"Library, Sir."

"Damn it, Potter, rest! I don't want to see my own body collapsing just because you're tired and can't sit still."

"Yes, Sir."

Yet another sequence of an unnerving silence that had fallen between them was broken by Harry just a few minutes in.

"Sir?"

"What now?" Snape snarled.

"What do you think the Headmaster's gonna say?"

"He'll say nothing; we're not telling anyone. I find a way to reverse it and then I'm going to promptly Obliviate you and myself."

"But it's end of a year, we don't know how long we'll stay with out bodies switched."

"So what?"

"If he doesn't know you're in my body, he's... he's gonna send you... _there_," he nearly whispered the last part.

"Where?"

"My guardians."

"Your point?"

"You can't go there," Harry stated firmly.

"Now listen, Potter, and listen well. I don't care about your feelings or you in general."

"I know."

"Don't interrupt me, brat."

"Sorry, Sir."

"I will not stand still while Dumbledore looks at me in your body, planning how to make the best of the situation. I'm going to return to my body asap, and this thing is going to be forgotten. So, you **will**** not ****dare**to say **anything** to **anybody**, is that clear?"

Harry lay quietly, drowning in his secret despair.

"Answer me, Potter!"

"Yes, Sir," Harry uttered in almost inaudible whisper.

"I'm going to sleep, and you're doing the same, Potter."

"Yes, Sir."

* * *

><p>Harry's head was spinning from the thoughts and worries randomly popping up, never seeming to cease.<p>

Up to now his only worry was how to switch back. Honestly, he didn't mind that much; his soul was belonging to the body of the man he loved. But he knew Snape's furious and disgusted with the exchange. Not that it was **that** surprising.

He will go through the library to find anything about the subject, truthfully, he had no idea about 'souls' whatsoever.

But then all these worries were pushed back when Snape announced this matter's to go unnoticed by anyone. And he would obey, of course, he really didn't want the man angered, not more than he already was. He sighed and run his hand through his hair; everything seemed to go from bad to worse, though he had no idea how his situation could go even worse. Except Voldemort marching into the Hospital Wing killing Snape in his body, perhaps...

Snape's gonna stay at Dursleys'. Without any valid reason he would not be allowed to stay here, safe. Was this the infamous bottom-line? Or was there really something that could make him despair even more?

Stumbling oven various things that could go wrong, his mind slowly fell into a restless sleep.

* * *

><p>He woke up and opened his eyes, closing them immediately again, hoping this would go unnoticed.<p>

"Harry," Dumbledore said cheerfully, shattering his hopes.

Having no way out, he opened his eyes and his vision was filled with nothing but Dumbledore for a while. When the old headmaster backed away slightly he noticed another person. His original body stood beside Dumbledore, looking at him with an unreadable expression on his face. Potter. He bit back all the insults he just yearned to yell at him. He saw Potter's eyes flicker sad, just to become emotionless again. Even while cursing the brat inwardly, he was forced to admit Potter could play this out.

"Headmaster," he said, remembering it wouldn't do calling the man 'Albus'. He looked into elder's face realizing there was no deceit;_ Potter__ really __hasn__'__t __spoken __up__,_ he noticed quite surprised.

"A lemon drop, my dear boy?" Dumbledore asked, offering him one he was holding in his hand.

"No, Sir, thank you," he said politely, inwardly already chanting all the curses that came to his mind.

"How are you feeling, my boy?" Dumbledore inquired, sitting beside Severus.

"Alright," he mumbled, fighting a growl. _'__You __dickhead__! __A__ potion __exploded __in __my __face __and__ forced __my __soul __into __a __body __of __a__ filthy__, __brainless__ Gryffindor __teenager__! __How __the __fuck __do __you __think __I __feel__?'_

"That great, Harry! Do you think you'll be joining your classmates for the last three days, or you'd rather rest some more?"

"Last three days? How long was I out?"

"Three days altogether," Pomfrey said. "You'd been unconscious for about ten hours, and you'd slept for the rest."

"Great," he muttered sardonically.

"Did you have something planned for the days you've missed?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling mischievously. Severus suddenly felt sick at his insinuations.

"Not really," he sighed, hoping Dumbledore would drop the subject.

"All's well that ends well, my boy," Headmaster smiled, and waving his goodbyes he left the infirmary.

"Do you have a girlfriend, Potter?"

"W-what?" Potter stuttered, looking at him incredulously.

"Girlfriend, Potter, I hope you at least know what that means?"

"Why are you asking this?"

"Potter. Think. Now. Do you have one or not? If you do, who is it? I have every intention to avoid her at all costs. I really don't want to get intimately involved with members of your fan-club."

"I don't have one."

"_Hm__," _he drawled inwardly, portraying a vicious grin on his face. Interesting. Pity he can't break them up, though...

"Anything I should know?"

"The password to the Gryffindor Tower is 'Carpe Diem'."

"Potter, tell me **everything** you can think of. I don't want your lion friends thinking me weird and thus suspicious."

"Don't worry, Sir," Potter waved his hand dismissively. "Just act like you normally do."

"I'm seriously thinking of cursing you now."

How could he be **that** thick? Even a Gryffindor, stupid as they are, should get something as simple as that; if he speaks wrong way to somebody or tells something weird, they would become aware that something is wrong with him. Really, Potter should develop some brain.

"Sir, believe me this once: just act normally..."

Potter obviously wanted to say more but frowned instead, waved his wand and...

"Potter!"

"Sir?"

"You use my wand. Why?" Why the hell was the brat processing around with **his** wand?

"I'm listening to you, Sir, and am avoiding any suspicion. If nothing more, it would be strange if I were using my own wand. Moreover, the switching occured to our souls, and our souls only. Our magic remained in their respective bodies; your magic is mine now and vice versa. Don't you feel your magic differently?"

"My magic?"

He closed his eyes and focused on tides and swirls of his magic. True. It really **did** feel different. He could feel every ounce of this strong unfamiliar energy as his own. An abrupt shudder run through his body. Pain and despair. He felt like falling down a bottomless abyss, and he was overcome with a sudden dizziness when he was forced to open his eyes to assure himself it was just his mind playing tricks.

"What was that?"

"What do you mean, Sir?" Potter asked, honestly surprised.

"This magic does feel different, but..."

"But? What are you talking about, Sir?"

"It's **dark**, Potter. There's no other word for that. All I could feel was pain, hopelessness, frustration, despair, and all-encompassing darkness. I feel like throwing up. So I ask once more: What the hell was that?"

"Magic, Sir. It's unfamiliar to you, so maybe that's why you feel it that way," Potter said, but it wouldn't take a spy to see through Potter's lying. The question was; **why** was he lying, and about **what**?

* * *

><p>'<em>Pain<em>_, __despair__, __frustration__, __darkness__,' _Harry chuckled bitterly. _'__Quite __so__.'_

He contemplated about his very first Charms with Flitwick, and the very first chapter of a text book, a prologue really.

_Magic __is __in __some __amount __present __in __every __animate __being __and __in __every __inanimate __object__. [...] __Amongst __all__, __only __wizard__-__kin __and __magical __beings __are __entitled __to __control __magic__, __to __some __degree__. [...] __Magic__ is __unique __to __each __and __every __witch __and __wizard__, __surging __from __their __magical __core__, __and __absorbing __all __traits __and__/__or __emotions__, __making __all __magical __signatures __their __own __originals__, __and __thus __rendering __them __impossible __to __mistake __one __for __another__._

'_No__ wonder__ Snape__ felt__ sick__ feeling__ my __magic__,' _Harry mused, heading to the Great Hall, his cloak billowing menacingly in his trail.

He sat at the teachers' table, first seat to the left, where he'd always seen the man sitting. Even after two days it felt weird sitting here, like on a dais, being able to see everyone in the hall. As soon as he sat down, a traditional English breakfast appeared in front of him. He poured himself a glass of water, and drinking slowly, he observed his fellow students.

Before long he could feel somebody staring at him, drilling a hole into his head, so he looked up only to face a sullen face of his professor currently residing in a body of a sixteen year old.

Snape quickly turned away and sat at the end of the Gryffindor table, just a little bit from an exit.


	2. Chapter 2

Since I've already updated my other story at ff . net(which is somehow more fun to write atm) I've decided to do something with this one as well, so here you go (I know the chapter is short - don't stone me)... hope there's not much of mistakes there, if you happen upon some, just pretend they're not there, 'kay? ^^"

thanks to all who reviewed *sends kisses*

concerning one particular review (that Snape's behaviour is almost non credible, not informing Dumbledore and stuff...) first of all: I've warned about AU/OOCness right at the very beginning... and then, Snape's not stupid; this information could get them killed (Snape - as it is - can't use magic outside Hogwarts, and Harry might have gained brains but is still a teenager and his magic atm is one he's not used to, making him weaker in result...) and Severus, as every Slytherin, doesn't trust completely anyone (yes, not even 'the-epitome-of-all-things-good-and-light-Dumbledore')... I hope that explains why he wants to keep their 'switching' secret...

~aq

R&R

* * *

><p>Looking around Severus' office he found that everything was in perfect logical order, even the books in his library were sorted alphabetically, and by subject they covered, though the only subjects the man was interested in were Potions, Dark Art and Defense against them, and there also was a small section of one shelf dedicated to Mind Magic - well, Severus IS a Master Occlumens and Legillimens so no real surprise here...<p>

There also was a fireplace in the room, a real wonder though was that Harry had never noticed it before, and he'd spent here a great deal of time serving detentions... His breath hitching, he abruptly stopped his explorations at what he's seen, and took few steps to said fireplace, his gaze focused on a mantle-piece over it, or better on a single picture frame standing there innocently, holding a photograph... And when he came close enough to recognize the two people in the picture, his eyes widened.

Lily P-Evans, he corrected himself, and Severus when they were attending Hogwarts.

Severus probably said something funny as his mother laughed merrily, and even the boy allowed his regular inexpressive mask slide down and smiled contently at her, his eyes glittering happily.

Harry felt a smile of his own curling his lips, and despite the dire situation he was in, he let it be... If nothing else, then for the joy of the moment captured in the magical picture. He'd never seen Severus like this: content, happy, full of dreams, full of...

"Love," Harry said aloud, and he knew he was right: his mother and Severus had been friends... or more?

The way Severus looked and smiled at his mother was how you'd look at someone you love; not just a frivolous and passing crush, but _love_. Harry knew that look; he'd seen it from the pictures he had of his parents, and he'd seen it often - whenever Remus looks at...

He shivered as though a bucket of ice-cold water was emptied on his head and shoulders.

Sirius.

Suddenly, a sickness took hold of his senses, and images started flowing through his vision at terrifying speed making him dizzy. Harry slowly reached a chair behind Severus' desk, and with the last dangerous sway he ungracefully plopped down onto it. Even while sitting in the chair, the ground still seemed so unstable, and the world around him was spinning restlessly, so Harry closed his eyes to avoid looking at the blurry images even though the feeling itself didn't go away anyway.

Yes, Sirius - his godfather, the first person to care about him, the first father-like figure of his life... Sirius had always been ready to throw his life away for Harry... and he has; killed by his cousin Bellatrix Lestrange just a few months ago. And all of that was Harry's fault, and he certainly knew it.

Had he listened to Dumbledore's advice and learned Occlumency; had he never received that blasted vision; had he recognized the vision was fake; had he let Order take care of things; had he trusted Order better; had he...

Another series of those useless 'ifs', Harry sighed dejectedly as he knew those thoughts could never help anything, nor make him feel any better... any less guilty. No, Sirius was dead and nothing could change the fact. He could remember every last detail of the battle at the Department of Mysteries, every detail of his godfather's death... everything, down to the last smudge on a button of Sirius' coat. How could he not when the scene of his godfather dying was haunting him night after night. True, it certainly was the moment his mind had closed by itself, and the dim numbness was all that was left of his emotions and it never let go during the long days gone by... But at night, when a darkness flooded the earth and its skies, the numbness of his defense mechanism disappeared and he found himself engulfed by an immense guilt and pain, and he has long since found out it will probably never go away, as well as it's been long since he said: "Never ever more."

No. Never again will he fall for others' tactics; never again will he listen to others' whispers; never again will he let somebody die because of him; never again will he let his close ones suffer because of him; never ever again will he let himself feel this damned helplessness...

* * *

><p>Scenes flashing wildly behind his closed eyes, moment after moment another nightmare unfolded - not Voldemort, no, nightmares sent by the Dark Lord were pretty rare occurrence lately and in all honesty, they stopped bothering him some time ago... well, almost... since the damned Lord sometimes striked just the place where it hurt the most... No, there were no fake visions, nor his parents dying, not even Cedric's death - the Dark Lord's favourite... This night it was only Sirius - not that it was a surprise, after all the night was when his guilt struck him, awake or asleep - it didn't really matter.<p>

He woke abruptly and running his hand through long strands of black hair and sweat-drenched face he cast a quick Tempus, only to find out it was barely few minutes after midnight.

"Oh joy," he sighed and got to his feet. It wasn't the first time he woke up in the dead of the night, and certainly it wasn't the last time either. And as the past months had mercilessly taught him, he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep anymore this night.  
>"Might as well do something useful." And with that he left Severus' office.<p>

* * *

><p>Leaning against a wall, he inclined his head to the back, and for a while he stared at a dungeon ceiling, deep in thoughts.<p>

_This morning he finally left the infirmary, with many obnoxious warnings from Poppy; heck, that woman should get a break. He left with the brightest thoughts of enjoying upcoming three days in a role of a student; he may not use his transfiguration or other skills any often, but the basics students are taught shouldn't be much of a strain, moreover, Potter was an idiot, so it wouldn't be much strange if he didn't know something. He traipsed light-headedly through the castle corridors to the Gryffindor Tower, optimistic he wouldn't have to teach, and inadvertently stress about, hordes of idiots and empty-headed teenagers._

_"_Carpe Diem_," he barked out at Fat Lady. She stepped out, huffing offended, and uncovered the entrance to the lion den._

_He shuddered, just as he'd thought, the atmosphere in the lions' Common Room was homey and cozy to no end, everything possible covered in warmth of their trademark red and gold. Sick. He sighted two narrow staircases at the other side of the room and headed just there. He stopped momentarily, thinking which staircase led to the boys' dormitories, but then the answer presented itself in form of happy girlish chatter from his left. Severus climbed few steps until he reached a door with 5th Year written on it._

_Pushing a heavy wooden door open, he stepped inside just to find all of the fifth-years still soundly asleep. What did he expect, really? Still, lions' laziness never ceased to disgust him, and here, in this sight, he had quite sound proof that he had not been wrong. He proceeded to the only empty bed and went through Potter's belongings to find his timetable, and he didn't need to search hardly as the brat's timetable was glued to the side of his nightstand facing the bed._

_"History of Magic, Transfiguration, lunch-break, Potions, DADA," he mumled as he read through Potter's today's classes. Starting at 8:30? he frowned and took in Potter's still sleeping roommates once again, are they serious? He shook his head and started looking for prescribed books in the brat's belongings, giving up after few minutes when he noticed no books anywhere, not even in his trunk or nightstand. Where teh hell did the brat put them? After a while he finally decided it wouldn't be any weird if a brainless idiot (which Potter was) forgot his things once; he'll just have to ask said idiot in Potions. Damn, he swore. But then he started laughing - Potter would be teaching Potions! How fun will that get? Despite all his efforts to stop his current maniacal behaviour he simply couldn't stop the laughing fit. Yes, he certainly was looking forward today's classes._

_All of sudden, he could hear a rustling on one of Potter's roommates' bed and he turned to look at a lion disturbed from his sleep; that had to be a sight to behold. True to his thoughts, a certain red-head shifted under his cover until his head poked out from under his blanket and he looked around the room, most likely to find the disturbing element. Opening his puffy eyes slightly, he groaned irritatedly, mumbled few swear words, and Severus found, to his utter disgust, two whiteish streams of dried up saliva leading from both corners of his mouth to the sides of his chin._

_"Ugh," he couldn't help but to _verbalize_ his disgust, reverting his sight from the scene. One thing he was sure of; he never wanted to repeat the experience and surely would be better off without ever seeing it in the first place._

_Weasley finally focused on him, and after a while, most likely to give his brain a time to process the information, he growled once more._

_"What the hell are you doin'?" he asked sleepily, looking up to a window to finally find out the sun was up already._  
><em>"Preparing for school?" Severus said, not able to fully repress a biting tone in his voice.<em>  
><em>"Then do it somewhere else, it's annoying. Git. I was sleeping."<em>

_It took all Severus' self-control not to curse the lion on the spot. Merlin, they were even more annoying in private. He was really glad he'd been sorted into Slytherin. There was another rustling in the room; it would seem Weasley's waking up was just a start to a chain-reaction of his roommates. Not sure he'd be able to keep himself from hexing his students, he grabbed Potter's bag which lay on his bed, and hurriedly left the room._

_Passing through lions' Common Room, he noticed, that all of the Gryffindors behaved the same way in the morning, there was no other way to explain their behaviour. It only took him few steps to cross the room, and then he finally left heading to the Great Hall for a breakfast. he was really starving, true, Pomfrey fed him some nutrition potions while he was out, but it could never compare to real food._

_Upon entering the Great Hall he found Potter already sitting on his regular spot, looking round the hall and sipping water. Severus frowned, it was weird looking at his own body. Much to his surprise, Potter was sitting on the exact same spot he always had, having his usual breakfast, even his expression didn't vary that much from his. It was truly weird. How did Potter know about his habits? Then the brat's eyes found him, and Severus found himself frowning even more. Why was there such concern written all over the brat's face? Weird, weird, definitely weird. He reverted his eyes from the disturbing sight and sat on the Gryffindor table, closest to exit._

A sound of a bell intercepted his thoughts and he was brought back to present, though the offness of this morning never left his mind. Not to mention the classes that followed, during whose he noticed that this morning's lions' behaviour wasn't due to the early hours of the day as it haven't changed a bit even later. A lunch with lions was another thing that got him confused: he'd come to sit at the table in the group of fifth years next to Weasley, only to be stared at. Not to mention their remarks which he simply couldn't understand.

Closing his eyes, he sighed as he heard footsteps of his classmates. Suddenly, he could heard another set of footsteps coming from dungeons, the sound softly reverberating amidst the corridors. He looked to his left, only to witness himself - well, Potter - closing in on the Potions' classroom.


End file.
